


How can you love a monster?

by thisisamadhouse



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, F/M, Vampire Hunters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2019-08-05 23:14:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16376882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisisamadhouse/pseuds/thisisamadhouse
Summary: She had spent three centuries cursed in this state, and no one had ever been able to see beyond the mask unless she allowed. No one, ever, until them. For the Spooky OQ week





	1. Mask

Regina ran her hand along the smooth edges of her face, searching for any cracks in the pristine mask she presented to the world, biting back a hiss as the action pulled at one of the open wounds on her arm. She had waited too long to feed… again, and the creature beneath the surface was threatening to take over once more, thus cracking open the fragile human envelope that allowed her to mingle among mere mortals.

 

The monster within had taken control a grand total of two times before Regina swore to herself -after waking up in a pool of blood, in the middle of a ravaged village- that she would never let it happen again.

 

She sighed, put on her cloak, adjusting the hood over her hair and face, and headed out of the small abandoned cottage she currently lived in at the edge of Nottingham. She had traveled far and wide during the three centuries she had spent cursed in this despicable state of playing host for an hellish beast, never settling in one place, never connecting with anyone; it was her cross to bear for falling for the Imp’s trick. She had begged the wizard to give her a cure for her beloved Daniel, who had been reduced to a shadow of himself by a mysterious ailment, so pale, so weak, enduring such pain, and though Rumplestiltskin had warned her about the price to pay, she had never expected this. He had kept his word though, and Daniel had recovered, so she had tried to carry on and hide her condition… in vain.

 

She deeply breathed in the crisp autumn air, shaking away her painful memories. She had never been to this part of England before, even if she had, on a couple of occasions, lost herself in the crowds of London, where lonely people, dark alleys and unsolved crimes were legions, or enjoyed the quiet of  the scottish moors where no one could hear the cries of an hermit for miles and miles around. She wondered what new challenges this town would present.

 

Regina quietly entered the inn and tavern, discreetly slipping to one of the darker, unoccupied corner of the room before she could attract any unwanted attention to herself. She observed the patrons intently, all her senses on alert. There was a raucous group of merry men sitting together at the table closest to the bar, cheering a small tot as he brought tankard after tankard, while the innkeeper looked on good-naturedly. Father and son, she thought, their scent mingling together in such perfect harmony that it felt soothing. Her inner demon stirred at the sight of the child, her fangs lowering slowly as the monster imagined tasting the youthful, unspoiled flesh, and Regina had to exert all her willpower to suppress the impulse. No children, ever, it was one of her own rules and she had never broken it. If she had to feed to keep the beast under control, at least she would choose her victims herself, and she would steer clear of that lot, there was no black sheep in this closely knit band.

 

She let her gaze linger on the dark-haired, dimpled boy as he enthusiastically threw himself at his father, trusting him to catch him with the kind of unwavering faith only children were capable of, she could barely remember having ever been this innocent. The father hadn’t passed on much of his features to his son apart from his smile and the creases in his cheeks, but he looked at him as if he was the most precious being in all of the Creation, and Regina had to turn away.

 

Another scent attracted Regina’s attention, raising the beast’s hackles. Something powerful was lurking close by, ancient and dark. When she noticed the waitress making her way towards her, she could hardly believe it, she hadn’t encountered many werewolves but their essence was unmistakable. Yet the girl had none of the predatory gait, the relaxed amble of a carnivore which knows it is at the top of the food chain, it was as if… as if she didn’t know, Regina’s eyes widened in realisation. She felt a strange mixture of envy and curiosity for this protective monster which could cohabit with its host without utterly destroying them.

 

A man hollered the waitress as she passed by him, rudely demanding a new pint of ale, and then slapping her ass for good measure, and Regina instantly knew she had found her next meal, her dark brown eyes focusing on the already intoxicated man. His clothes had clearly been fashionable once, but the rich fabric was stained, the edges fraying; the man himself was unkempt, greasy hair and ruddy complexion, glassy eyes, loudly slurping the last of his drink and wiping his lips with his sleeve. Regina repressed a nauseous feeling and a shiver, the things she had to do to keep the beast under control…

 

“Are you alright, dear?” She asked the waitress when she joined her table, and the girl seemed startled by the question. Regina looked between the drunk and the girl, and the waitress understood and gave a shaky smile.

 

“I’m fine, it was nothing I can’t handle,” she waved it off. “But thank you,” she added sincerely. “I’m Red by the way, what can I get you?” Regina’s eyebrow raised slightly at the name, and she bit back a smirk as she took in the bright ruby cloak on the girl’s shoulders. She would have thought her server had a strange sense of humor if she didn’t feel waves of energy coming from it. That explained how she kept the wolf hidden, though Regina wasn’t sure Red knew just how important the cloak was.

 

She ordered some mead, she liked the sweetness of it, and she hadn’t had to worry about being affected by alcohol in a very long time. After Red delivered her tankard, Regina sipped it slowly, keeping her eyes on her target, her disgust growing with each lecherous look he threw towards their waitress.

 

A couple hours passed before the bartender announced that they would be closing soon. Apart from Regina and her prey, only the group she had noticed early on remained, and Red was almost done cleaning the tables.

 

“It’s alright Red, I will finish up. You should go home. I wouldn’t want that Granny of yours to come after me for overworking you,” the owner told his employee with a wide smile, and Red thanked him as she prepared to leave.

 

Regina saw the drunkard get up and stumble his way outside, she could feel and hear his blood pumping quickly in his aroused state, and there was no doubt what he was planning to do.

 

Red left right after and Regina was about to follow when she collided with the owner. He had his keys in one hand and held his son in his other arm, ready to lock up and retire for the night. The boy was dozing off on his father’s shoulder, but when they crashed against Regina, his eyes opened, and as her hood slipped away and uncovered her face, both he and his father gasped, the man taking a step back, clutching his son closer.

 

Regina’s hand flew to her face, she couldn’t feel anything wrong, her skin as smooth and flawless as ever, and a quick look towards the man’s companions confirmed that they were as confused with their friend’s reaction as she was. Yet, both man and boy still appeared stunned and terrified, and Regina knew she had to flee before they recovered. She swiftly got out of the door, her mind abuzz with questions, but cries and the sounds of a struggle nearby distracted her enough to remind her what she was doing here.

 

The sorry excuse of a human being had pinned Red’s front against a brick wall in a side alley, and was attempting to lift up her skirts with one hand while muffling her screams with the other. Regina’s speed and strength were inhuman, the lowlife didn’t stand a chance: she grabbed him by the collar and threw him further down the alley.

 

Red slid to the ground, but Regina heaved her up and only said one word:          

 

“Run.”


	2. Trapped

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright so I'm really late but I'm determined to finish this so here is the second chapter of my Spooky OQ 2018 story!

Though Robin Locksley had been all of four at the time, he could still pinpoint the exact moment which made him realise that his family was different, special. He vividly recalled his younger self wandering around the house, unable to sleep, hearing his parents talk from behind an ajar door and peeking in, his eyes widening as he had seen his mother stitching up deep gashes in his father’s back and torso.

 

“That was a close one,” his mother had said, her lips thin and her brows furrowed in worry.

 

“There were more of them than we anticipated, we won’t be making that mistake again,” his father had replied.

 

“You are lucky not to have been killed or turned, Robert!” Her mother had exclaimed. “You are not getting any younger while they seem to always grow stronger, maybe you should think about stepping down, let others handle this.”

 

“I thought you said you would always support me, Beth, that you knew what you were getting into when you married me? This is not a simple job that I can walk away from, it’s a calling, and it’s been my family’s mission for centuries. There are already too few of us, I can’t give up because of a few scratches,” his father had argued before gritting his teeth and letting out a growl as Robin’s mother had stuck the needle in viciously for the next stitch.

 

“You know that I will always be there for you, but it would be nice if you were actually alive to enjoy it,” she had countered, and his father had let out a sigh.

 

“We have always known the risk. This is about something bigger than us, Beth, it’s a fight against the evil that lurks in this world, and it sometimes requires sacrifices.”

 

Robin had gasped at that, causing his parents to turn towards him.

 

“Oh honey, you should be in bed,” his mother had said, drawing him towards her in a tight embrace at the sight of his pale face and tears-filled eyes.

 

His life had changed after that night, his parents unable to spin a tale around what he had heard and seen. Hearing that his father, uncles and cousins were Hunters, descendants of a long line going back for more than a millenia had been somewhat difficult for his young mind to understand: monsters, vampires, werewolves were only characters in scary stories, alway defeated by a brave hero before they could hurt anyone, or at least that was what he had thought. From that moment on he had become an apprentice, the first of the next generation to be trained in the art of recognizing and killing all kinds of demons and the importance of secrecy to protect themselves.

 

His family was blessed with sharp reflexes, strength, and an ability to see beyond even the most elaborated disguise, and over the years Robin had honed his skills, choosing a bow and arrow as his weapon of choice, and gaining a reputation in tournaments for never missing his target. There had been no question that he would pursue his family’s mission, it wasn’t a duty for him, it was his life, all he had ever known since he was a child, and he was damn good at it. He never had had any doubt, never, until he had met Marian.

 

He had fallen head over heels in love with her, though she had been more skeptical, having heard all sorts of legends about him and his kin, and not knowing exactly what to make of him. He had wooed her though, and let her in some of the family’s secrets. She had been cautious, but open to hear about it, down to the moment where she had seen Robin come back to her severely wounded. He had known then that he would have to make a choice, he couldn’t ask of her the same sacrifice that his father had once asked of his mother: to live in the constant fear that saying goodbye would actually mean farewell.

 

He had renounced his vocation and chosen love, marrying Marian soon after with only his mother’s blessing. They had been happy, leading a simple life, traveling England. They had met the Merry Men, and Robin had found a new way to help and save others by stealing from the rich to give to the poor. The adrenaline rushes he had craved during the hunts had come back during their heists, and though dangerous it had been safer than facing ruthless, bloodthirsty creatures. When Marian had announced that she was pregnant, Robin had felt on top of the world, but it wasn’t to last and he still blamed himself for not seeing it coming.

 

The men had been out of the camp, Robin’s newborn son Roland had only been a few weeks old, it was supposed to be an easy job, but it had taken them much more time than they had planned to pull it off, and when they had come back, the scene that had awaited them had been one of devastation. The only sound they had been able to hear had been Roland’s desperate cries as he had waved around his little arms in his wooden crib, Marian lying on the ground beside him, unseeing eyes and two puncture marks in her neck, two drops of blood oozing from them. Roland had been the only survivor, and it had led to another transition in Robin’s life, once he had pulled himself from the initial rage and following depression, choosing a more sedentary existence where he could look after his son and dangers seemed more remote, or so Robin had hoped.

 

Four years later, after the Men had put together their savings and helped him buy an inn and tavern in Nottingham, he got to watch his son grow and thrive everyday, and he realized that he had let his guard drop when he found himself feeling forgotten sensations: a sudden shudder, hair rising at the back of his neck, goosebumps on his arms, the world around him slowing down, giving him time to take in the unpredicted disturbance. The black-clad figure who entered noiselessly and settled in the corner was a prime suspect, though it remained to be seen what exactly he was dealing with. He kept his attention divided between Roland and the stranger all evening, listening closely when Red told him about the beautiful brunette who had showed concern after her encounter with the drunkard that Robin would never let back in the pub. There were only a few kind of creatures who could appear in public without sending everyone running and screaming, and those were the most devious and dangerous of all. Though he had developed a tolerance to werewolves, to the point he counted two of them among his closest friends, the thought of vampires still sent him in a frenzy, but then Red had no idea about her condition and her Granny was too old to turn and she hadn’t hurt anyone in a really long time.

 

It was time to close up, Robin had his arms full with a tired Roland, and he realised too late that the woman was at the door when he got there. They crashed into her and her hood slipped. It had been years since his vision had blurred like this, alternating between showing him the lovely mask which had fooled Red, and the face beneath with its yellow eyes, distorted features, the fangs peeking through perfectly painted, red lips. Robin froze for a second, before remembering the precious cargo in his arms. He tightened his hold on a now alert and strangely silent Roland and stepped back, trying to determine how much time he had to get his son to safety. The vampire, however, reacted unexpectedly and fled.

 

Robin was rooted in place for a moment, his heart beating fast, before his friends scrambled to his side to ask him what had just happened. As he told them, Red staggered back inside, looking disheveled, her clothes torn in some places, her face ashen and her eyes wide with fear.

 

“Help,” she stuttered, teeth chattering from the cold and the shock. “Please, help.”

 

They all immediately sprang into action, Robin entrusting Roland to Alan-a-Dale, all but ordering him to look after his son and Red, before joining the others at the back of the tavern where they kept their weapons. Within moments, they were heavily armed and out on the street. Robin let his instinct guide them towards the alley where he found that they were too late. Though the others couldn’t see it, dark as the alley was, the creature was crouching over a prone figure, her fangs planted deep inside his neck, slurping the blood noisily. Robin’s stomach rolled, the fleeting memory of Marian appearing clearly in his mind before he pushed it away, clenching his jaw, drawing back his bow, and hissing to his friends a reminder to aim for the heart.

 

This one wouldn’t get away, Robin swore to it, they had her trapped, they were well-trained. He knew that vampires were at their weakest right after they fed, just a few moments where they built back their energy, that was his only opportunity to strike. He was about to let his arrow fly when she lifted her head up, letting go of her meal, blood leaking from her mouth along her chin, and their eyes met.

 

Robin held his breath as she took in the group assembled there, looking from man to weapon until she settled her intense gaze back on him. Robin’s jaw slacked slightly as she sat back on her heels, her features relaxing into the beautiful face of the woman she had once been. She stayed there, unmoving, just watching him curiously, an eyebrow arched in challenge or invitation, maybe? Robin was confused, he had never encountered such a behaviour before, but as he thought about it, he wondered if it really mattered, if she was going to make it easy for them, then who was he to deny her?

 

He adjusted his aim and she smiled sadly, accepting her fate.

 

“Wait!”  


	3. Bats

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the OQ Update Month, a continuation of my Halloween fic! It feels good to get through the writer's block. Warning still applies, some graphic descriptions ahead

An ocean of red filled her vision, the metallic flavor of haemoglobin revived her taste buds, she got drunk on it as surely as her meal once did on absinthe, the warm liquid sliding along her tongue and oesophagus till it pooled in her belly. The monster almost purred in relief at being fed, and it retreated slowly, satisfied, sealing the cracks it had opened in Regina’s skin, alleviating the pressure on her joints and the pounding in her skull from the singular, overpowering thought of ‘blood, now.’ 

She always felt dizzy during mealtime, it was one thing to share her body with a demoniac being, it was another to have said being take over completely until it had drunk its fill, and the longer she went without eating, the most potent the takeover was, as if to punish her for denying it. It probably explained why it took her so long to notice that she wasn’t alone anymore: the men from the tavern had come, bearing arms. She had been certain that the passageway would be too dim for anyone to see her, but the glint from the sky blue eyes belonging to the innkeeper staring right at her was a sure proof that she had been wrong. She had let herself be distracted by the boy, and had ignored the now rather obvious signs that his father was a Hunter, it certainly explained their reaction when they saw her face earlier. 

She barely noticed the dead body she had been gripping dropping to the ground. Studying the group, she found no trace of fear, simply grim determination. Only their leader had inherited hunting skills, but he had obviously taught them well. She looked back at the man she had dismissed as a mere bartender, and she wondered if he could be the one who would end her torment, if, finally, after all those years, she had found the answer to her prayers in the English Midlands.

She forced the monster to recede, making the most of its lethargic, post-feeding state, knowing that it would attack if it felt even a hint of danger, and she waited for the arrow to hit her, a small smile on her lips.

Regina heard the hurried steps and smelt the werewolf’s essence before she even spoke, and she sighed in disappointment. The girl would be foolish enough to try and save her. 

“Wait!” Red called out. “Wait! She saved me from him!”

Regina wasn’t really interested in hearing this, it was too late, the hunter was distracted and her inner monster had regained its full strength, no amount of self-control would stop it from attacking those who would try to kill her. Her ears picked up a particular noise that was otherwise almost imperceptible for mere humans. The scent of blood had attracted her winged companions, and Regina emitted a series of sounds, trills, chirps and buzzes in a pattern that she had practiced for years before getting it right. In seconds she was surrounded by a flurry of dark wings that carried her and her meal away.

* * *

Little Roland watched with a mix of curiosity and fear as Alan helped Red sit down, went behind the bar, returning a moment later to press a full glass in her shaking hands, encouraging her to drink.

The child approached her, patting her knee gently as Alan asked her what happened.

“That man, the drunken one that stayed until closing,” she replied in a quivering voice. “He followed me out, and when we passed by the alley,” she paused, looking down at Roland’s wide, innocent eyes. “He pushed me against the wall, he tried to hurt me,” she omitted some details for Roland’s sake, but Alan understood perfectly. “She appeared out of nowhere and she grabbed him. She saved me.”

“Who did?”

“The hooded woman who sat in the corner all evening, but she seemed different somehow, I don’t know how to explain it. I hope she is alright!” Red exclaimed, shivering.

“I’m sure that Robin and the others will support her,” Alan assured, but Roland spoke up.

“The woman with the scary mask?” He asked, and both adults froze.

“What did you say, munchkin?” Alan questioned, kneeling in front of the boy.

“The woman who left when Papa was closing, she had a mask, all twisted and ugly, it scared me and Daddy.”

Red and Alan were confused, until it seemed to click. “You don’t think…” Alan trailed off, his eyes widening.

“But she helped me,” Red countered. “She wouldn’t have if she is a…” She stopped. “I don’t believe it,” she stood up and ran out, Alan hot on her heels, and Roland followed, not wanting to be left all alone.

He trotted as fast as his little legs allowed him to, and when he joined the group assembled in the alley, he heard Red pleading with his father.

“Wait! She saved me from him!” 

Roland looked into the shadows, and to his surprise he could see the woman at the end, with an unmoving figure in front of her. Within moments, something happened, the woman disappeared in the middle of a dark cloud which produced shrill cries that hurt Roland’s ears. He put his fingers in his ears, screamed and scampered away, not hearing his father’s desperate calls behind him.

* * *

Regina rested under the old apple tree still standing proud in the front garden of the house, watching her faithful bats feast on what was left of Red’s would be aggressor. Soon enough various insects would take over, and then the strays around would have their fun. She would have to leave before all of that happened. Now that a Hunter had seen her, she couldn’t stay in Nottingham unless she wanted to risk a massacre. He had let the opportunity to destroy her slide, and she wouldn’t need to feed again for a long while. Once more her hopes had been swiftly dashed, and she would remain cursed.

She turned her head sharply to the side as she heard tiny feet running towards her. She knew who it was even before the dark-haired child even came into view, and she rose swiftly to hide the gruesome sight at her back.

He stopped as he noticed her, out of breath and terrified by whatever he had left behind. He took a step back and tripped, falling down and scratching his hands. His eyes welled up, and he whimpered as Regina came nearer. She kneeled down at a distance, raising her hands, trying to show him that she meant no harm.

“Don’t worry child, I won’t hurt you,” she told him softly.

He hiccuped as a few tears trailed along his cheeks, but he seemed to calm down, looking at her intently.

“You don’t have your mask anymore,” he said, puzzling Regina. He must be too young, she thought, his gifts no fully developed, the monster had been so close to the surface that she couldn’t hide it from him, now that it was replete it was harder to detect for his untrained eyes.

“I took it off,” she said. “I needed it to scare off someone.”

“The man who tried to hurt Red,” the boy said, nodding. “She said you saved her,” and he gave her a small smile.

Regina felt a sudden lump forming in her throat, _‘save’,_ here was a word that she hadn’t heard in a long time. No one associated her and her kind with good actions, even if she only attacked the dregs of society, violent and dangerous people who had never shared their bodies and minds with a demonic force, who killed and hurt because they enjoyed it. Somehow the recognition that this little boy just gave her meant the world.

She cleared her throat, the emotions almost choking her, even though she hadn’t drawn a breath in three centuries. “Will you let me look at your hands?” She asked, her voice decidedly raspier than usual.

He lifted them. “They sting,” he mumbled, and she winced in sympathy, approaching slowly. She didn’t feel any urge at the sight of his scraped and slightly bloodied hands, which was a relief. The beast was resting for now. There was some dirt in the superficial cuts, it needed to be cleaned.

“I have what’s necessary inside to help. Will you come with me?” Regina asked. 

The boy bit down on his bottom lip, hesitating, but a cold waft of air seemed to decide him. She helped him get up, checking that there weren’t any other wounds visible and guided him inside the cottage, keeping herself between him and the bats still eating. “What’s your name?” He inquired.

_Monster, Devil, Abomination_ , those were the kind of names she usually heard, but this gentle child would never know that. “Regina, my name is Regina,” she answered softly.

He seemed to consider it, and then nodded in approval. “It’s pretty, I like it. I’m Roland,” he replied.

Regina smiled down at him. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Roland.”

The hovel was sparsely furnished, the previous owner didn’t have much and no one had bothered to claim it after he died, she had spent time cleaning it all up as she moved in. Just a bed that she had pushed in the darkest corner of the room, far away from the windows -which she had draped with heavy clothes that she had found in a wooden chest-, a table with a single chair, some cutlery and pots, a cauldron, a fireplace, there were little gardens at the front and the back, and a well. This was more than Regina had sometimes had. 

She had been boiling water before Roland arrived, to prepare herself some tea, she liked its soothing sensation and it helped wash off the taste of blood. Fire wasn’t exactly a friendly element to vampires, but it wasn’t like Regina cared much about her own safety. She looked through the herbs she collected during her travels, and found some dried lavender flowers. She put them in a pot and added some steeping water, letting it infuse.

“It smells nice,” Roland said, remaining close to her, closely watching her every move.

Regina felt a pang at the sight of the inquisitive boy, she remembered another one, long ago, who followed her everywhere. They used to take care of each other, until he grew into a young man and fell in love with a girl he wanted to marry. Regina could have never asked him to choose between his love and her, she removed herself from the picture, leaving him a chance at a normal life far from the shadows.

“It does, doesn’t it?” She commented, shaking herself from her reminiscence, and started looking for a clean cloth. She soaked it into the infusion and delicately put Roland’s hands on her lap. “It will clean everything up so it doesn’t sting anymore.” She wrung the cloth over his palms, letting it wash the soil and gravel away. “It’s called lavender, do you know it?” She asked, distracting him as she dabbed a bit more insistently at the pieces still embedded in his skin.

He squirmed a little as he nodded. “Granny has it in her garden. She says everyone should have some cause it’s useful.”

“She is a wise woman this Granny of yours.”

“She is not mine, she is Red’s granny, but she tells everyone to call her that. I think it’s because she is too old, and she doesn’t remember her real name,” he whispered the last part, as if he thought he would get in trouble if he said it out loud, and Regina let out a laugh, the sound almost foreign to her ears, she wasn’t used to hear it. 

Roland beamed at her. “You have a nice laugh. You should laugh all the time.”

Regina felt undeniably much more emotional than usual. “Bless you, sweet child,” she murmured, he was a balm to her dead, cold heart. She cleared her throat again, vampires didn’t cry dammit, though they didn’t take care of scared little boys either.

“Let me get some St John’s wort tincture, and then I will bandage these little hands,” she said, getting up to search her bag again.

Roland let out a giggle. “One of Papa’s friend is called John, but Papa always says that he is no saint.”

Regina let out a snort at the remark. While she was preparing some compresses with the tincture, one of the youngest bats, born just last spring, fluttered to her, grasping her sleeve with its claws, climbing up to her shoulder and settling there. She returned to her seat, but Roland saw the bat and stepped back against the table, his eyes wide.

“She is harmless, just curious. She is very young you see, she is learning, but she is very nice. Look,” Regina stroked the little bat’s head, and she seemed to appreciate it.

Roland approached cautiously, and when the bat stayed still, he started to breathe again.

“They scared me earlier, they were so noisy.”

“They can be sometimes, when night falls and they are hungry, but during the day they sleep.”

“Are they your friends?”

“In a way yes, we travel together. I look after them, they look after me.”

“Like Archie’s dog,” Roland muttered, his eyes remaining fixated on the bat, thinking about the red-headed man who came by the tavern sometimes with a constant smile on his face and his dog by his side.

“Kind of,” Regina agreed, gently dressing his hands. 

Roland leaned more heavily against her, and after some hesitation Regina sat him on her lap, resting her chin on his head.

“Are you a mom, Regina?” He wondered, slurring the words a bit, his eyes drooping, obviously tired from all the excitement.

“Why are you asking me this?” She asked, combing his hair soothingly.

Roland shrugged. “You feel like a mom, I think,” he said simply, nuzzling against her.

Regina suppressed tears, this boy had no idea of the havoc he was wreaking on her emotions. She considered not answering, to just bundle him up and return him to his father, who was probably turning the town upside down in search of his son, but Roland felt so warm against her, familiar in a way she couldn’t quite determine. She simply couldn’t let go.

“I was a mom once, yes. He wasn’t really mine, but I loved him as if he was,” she finally answered. She didn’t tell him about Baelfire, her Sire, son of the wizard who had saved Daniel in exchange for her blood -you see, Regina came from a long line of powerful witches, which combined with a vampire strength made for nearly invincible beings.-, who had taken a fancy for a young woman called Emma, who had a son, not much older than Roland when they came across them. She didn’t talk about the way Baelfire had seduced Emma, entrapped her and turned her, and afterwards the monster controlling Emma didn’t care much for her son. Instead, she said:

“His name was Henry, and he was an orphan. I took him in, and we took care of each other. We traveled far and wide, saw many places, met lots of people.” She didn’t tell him what she would do to those who ever tried to harm Henry. “He loved to tell stories, I taught him to read, and he would devour any book we could find, and when it wasn’t enough, he would just make up his own tales. I loved listening to him.”

“That’s nice,” Roland sighed, settling even more heavily against her. “I never had a mommy,” he whispered, and then his breathing deepened, he was asleep.

With that, realisation struck, and Regina remembered an encampment, barely protected, only a few armed boys and elders guarding it. The clan she had been wayfaring with became out of control when their scout reported that the strongest men were gone, they devastated the camp in minutes, leaving no survivors except for the baby that Regina had protected, throwing his mother’s killer away, impaling him on a wooden stick planted in the ground in the process, turning him to dust. They had excluded her after that, but the baby had been left unharmed. She had always wondered what had become of him, and of those who returned to find their families and friends slaughtered. A single tear trailed along her cheek, and she pressed Roland closer to her.

“I’m so sorry, dear boy,” she murmured against his hair. He didn’t wake, just grabbed a handful of her dark strands in his bandaged fist, dreaming away of lullabies and gentle arms swinging him from side to side.


	4. Bang!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back for another update! Some more graphic descriptions on this one. Unbetaed, all mistakes are mine. I hope you like it!

Robin couldn’t believe how far his son had run. He had tried to go after him, but the shrilly swarm of bats had attracted a small crowd, and by the time he had managed to pull himself from the last worried bystander who had been anxiously clinging to his arm, there had been no trace of his boy. He and his companions had spread out around the town to find him, and Robin was approaching the last house in his assigned area.

He inhaled and picked up on an unmistakable stench as he walked the gravelly path leading to what he had thought was an abandoned dwelling. Bile rose in his throat at the ghastly spectacle of his former customer being teared apart by the winged pests. Though he was growing desperate to find his boy, Robin silently prayed that he wasn’t there, he shuddered at the thought of what the demon could have done to him.

He notched an arrow onto his bow. He hadn’t expected to find the vampire’s lair so he knew that he had already lost the element of surprise, she had most certainly heard him coming by now. He would need to be faster, and to trust his renowned deadly precision. He bent his bow, walked to the wooden door and kicked it in. It crashed against the wall with a loud _‘Bang’_ , but the woman sitting near the lit hearth didn’t jump, or move a single muscle in reaction for that matter. She only looked at him the same way she did earlier in that dark alley, with the same curious stare and challenging raised eyebrow, daring him to finish what he had started just a few hours prior.

Robin would have ended her then and there, if it hadn’t been for the tight grip his son had on her. Roland was asleep, sitting sideways on her lap, -the reassuring rise and fall of his chest had Robin silently exhaling in relief-, a bandaged hand grasping ebony strands of hair. The woman was gently pressing her palm against his ear, maybe to protect him from the disturbance, but it was unnecessary, Roland always slept like a log, though never had he done so against a stranger’s bosom.

“What have you done to him?” Robin asked harshly, nodding towards his son’s hands, and the woman shook her head slightly, pinching her lips in annoyance, as if she was disappointed by his assumption somehow. It was an odd behaviour for a vampire to have in Robin’s considerable experience.

“He fell down and scratched his hands, I only patched him up,” she explained, and then rolled her eyes at his skeptical expression. “I don’t hurt children. Besides, the rotter out there has done the job, hard as he is to digest,” she seemed as disgusted as he felt at the thought.

"Did my son see that?”

“Of course not,” she huffed, and Robin found that he didn’t particularly appreciate her tone.

“Excuse me for being concerned about my son’s well-being, knowing that he spent an extended period of time with a heartless monster,” he spat, and her posture became rigid, her face stony, her eyes hard and cold. The hand which had been against Roland’s ear dropped to the chair arm, she straightened up to push herself off her seat, and Robin adjusted his aim in response, but her movements disturbed Roland, and he shifted against her, nestling ever closer to her, a low mewl of discomfort escaping his lips.

There was a tense moment of uncertainty, as both waited to see if the child would wake, and Robin got ready to let his arrow fly at the first hint of threat. He felt his jaw drop as the vampire sat back down and hummed softly to his son, gently combing his wild curls until Roland purred happily.

“You don’t know the first thing about me. If it had been my desire, both you and your son would be bloodless and my pets would snack on you, and there is nothing you could have done to prevent it, no matter how skilled a Hunter you may be,” she whispered each word, but there was no ignoring the menace behind them. Robin swallowed heavily as he realised how rashly he had acted. She was no common vampire, he was certain of it, he had never seen one act like this before, any other would have turned and tried to rip him to pieces by now, any other would have feasted on his son. He didn’t know what to make of her, and that made her even more dangerous than the rest of her kind.

If he hadn’t seen what lurked beneath, he could be fooled by her, he thought, and he was sure many before him had been. He had been too overwhelmed by her distorted features earlier to pay much attention to her human disguise. The fire in the chimney lit up half of her, keeping the other in the shadows, and if Alan-a-Dale was here, the minstrel would probably find some poetry to it. He would talk about how the flames made her dark hair shine, catching hints of honey and copper here and there, he would mention the glint in her intense whiskey-brown eyes that could have any man lost from staring too long, he would imagine stories about the scar on her upper-lip that no rouge could hide. Robin was no bard though, and even if he could not deny the beauty of the creature he faced, he had learned not to be distracted by it. What held his attention was the subtle mix of fierceness and protectiveness that emanated from her. She watched him warily, never taking her yellowing eyes off him for even a second, all but baring her lengthening fangs in her fury at his comment and his continued threatening attitude, the familiar creases appearing in her forehead, and yet she kept a tender hold on his boy, brushing his hair back without tugging at any knot, a true feat in itself, as he slumbered. She reminded Robin of a she-wolf, guarding her cub against a potential predator.

If he wanted to get Roland back he would have to tread carefully. It was a gamble to lower his bow, it went against all of his instincts, against everything he had been taught, if she suddenly decided to strike he would be defenseless, but somehow he didn’t think she would attack unless provoked, and he knew that he wouldn’t be able to appeal to her otherwise. He relaxed his stance and put his arrow back in his quiver, while keeping their eyes locked.

“I apologise for my harsh words, I let fear speak, and I can see now that you mean him no harm. I just want to take my son home, Milady,” he said, as calmly as he could manage.

And just like that, the feral beast vanished, her gaze cleared, her skin smoothened, her lips parted in surprise. She seemed confused for a moment, looking away from him for he first time since he set foot inside, and then she clenched an unoccupied fist, closing her eyes, and huffing in anger. At what? Robin wasn’t sure. Herself maybe.

“Of course,” she whispered. “Your boy. He should be in his own bed.” She stood, with Roland in her arms, and approached him, and Robin held his breath, forcing himself to remain composed and collected. His boy stirred halfway through, and blinked his eyes open, smiling as he caught sight of the woman, and then positively grinning when he saw his father.

“Papa!” He exclaimed. “You found me,” he said, beaming, and Robin couldn’t help but smile in return, extending his arms towards him. The woman gingerly handed Roland over.

“I certainly did, little man,” Robin replied as he hugged Roland close. “But you shouldn’t have run away like that, I was really worried.”

Roland looked down. “I’m sorry, Papa! The bats scared me, but I know that it’s just because they were hungry. They can be nice and cuddly too. And I made a new friend! Regina took really good care of me, Papa!” He said it all in quick succession, as was his habit when he was excited, making Robin a bit dizzy.

“Did she now?” Robin asked, staring at the woman in question, who seemed amused by his son’s antics. Regina, he thought, it suited her.

“Hmm hmm,” Roland nodded emphatically. “She cleaned my hands, and she told me stories, and she showed me how to pet a tiny little bat so I wouldn’t be afraid. Can you tell me another story next time? I really want to know more about Henry!” He addressed the last two sentences at Regina, who appeared startled by the assumption that there would be a next time.

_Not a chance in hell_ , Robin thought, and Regina seemed to know it as she looked from father to son.

“That is not up to me, little one,” she told Roland softly, and his boy turned back to him, pouting.

“Can we come back, Papa, pleeeease?”

In any other case, Robin wouldn’t be able to resist the treacherous combination of pout, plea and puppy-dog eyes, but in this instance he had to remain strong.

“We will see, my boy, but for now, I think we have outstayed our welcome. You should have gone to bed hours ago.”

Roland sighed, as deeply as a miserable four-year old could. “I guess so. Goodbye Regina, thank you for helping me!” He said brightly, extended a bandaged hand towards Regina’s face to brush her cheek with his fingers.

Robin had to look away from the open expression on her face, the pure wonder at such a simple act of kindness. She didn’t seem to know how to respond, and settled for pressing a kiss on the retreating fingers, making Roland beam.

Robin turned to leave, but was stopped in his tracks as she spoke.

“What was her name?” She asked, and he twisted his head back, frowning.

“Whose name?” He retorted.

"His mother’s,” Regina clarified, and Robin tightened his hold on Roland, not liking the direction in which the conversation was going.

“Marian,” he replied cautiously.

“Marian,” she repeated, testing the name. “He does take a lot after her,” she added, and Robin’s blood grew cold.

“You knew my Mama, Regina?” Roland piped up from over Robin’s shoulder.

She nodded, looking straight at Robin. “I met her once.”

He instantly knew what she implied. “Why would you tell me this?” He asked, because it made no sense, he was walking away, not killing her for the second time that evening, so what was she playing at?

“Incentive,” she answered, simply. “Next time, you might actually end this.”

“Do you really want me to?” He challenged.

“Wouldn’t you want someone to?” She countered, and he swallowed heavily, because he definitely would, he never would want to spend a moment in this cursed state.

“Well then, we shall see each other again,” he dipped his head at her, and walked out briskly, shushing Roland as he started asking all kind of questions, fighting the urge to look back.

* * *

Instead of going home, he took Roland straight to Granny’s. On the way he came across Little John, who, to Robin’s relief, was too happy to see Roland safe and sound to ask any questions. John went to relay the good news to he Merry Men and call it a night, after playfully ruffling Roland’s hair.

Eugenia Lucas, who was known around town as Granny, reformed werewolf and local healer, was waiting for him at the entrance of her house, a deep frown on her aging face which cleared as she set eyes on his son. She ushered them inside, closing the door firmly behind them. She poured Robin a cup of tea, adding a few drops of whiskey for good measure, and settled Roland on the table in front of her.

“Well this has been an eventful evening,” she commented, tickling the boy, and Robin finally began to relax at the sound of his son’s giggles.

“Understatement of the year,” he replied, slowly sipping the hot beverage, and then taking a few deep breaths to calm his erratic pulse.

Granny threw him a questioning look over her rond spectacles, but he shook his head, this was not a conversation he wanted to have in front of Roland.

“Would you mind looking at his hands? I want to be sure that he is alright,” he asked.

Granny nodded. “Of course. Would you let me, little man?” She turned back to Roland, her tone gentler than her usual gruffness.

The tot bit his bottom lip, hesitating. “But Regina made them nice and tight,” he protested, glancing down at his hands, turning them to show the expertly wrapped bandages.

“I’m sure she did, but you know that I trust no one’s work but mine,” Granny explained patiently.

Roland faltered. “I guess,” he finally acquiesced, extending his hands to her.

“I don’t think I know this Regina, who is she?” She asked as she unrolled the dressing.

Roland’s face lit up. “She is my new friend,” he exclaimed enthusiastically. “She is very nice. She is the one who helped Red, she made the mean man who hurt her run away with her scary mask. I was afraid because of the mask and the noisy bats, so I fell and I hurt my hands, but she talked to me, and she cleaned it all so it wouldn’t hurt anymore. She knows lots of stories! Next time I see her, I’m going to ask her to tell me more stories about Henry…”

“Who is Henry?” Robin interjected, blown away by his son’s ability to speak so much without pausing to breathe. It was the second time he mentioned that name, and Robin was becoming curious now that they were safe.

“It’s her son, he was an orphan and she took care of him,” the boy repeated what Regina had told him. “She taught him to read. Do you think she could teach me too?” He seemed excited by the prospect, but the mere thought made Robin cringe.

“I don’t know, little man, we just met Regina,” and if Robin had his way, there wouldn’t be much too worry about his son seeing her again. “It’s too soon for that.” He didn’t want to traumatise Roland by revealing the true nature of his newfound friend, but he would put his foot down if the boy insisted too much.

“But she is so nice, Papa, and she knew Mama!” He reminded his father, though Robin didn’t need it.

“Oh really?” Granny inserted herself back in the conversation, having seen the way Robin’s face fell as he thought about the way Regina’s encounter with Marian must have gone. “Well, it’s a small world, isn’t it? Roland, do you know what she did to your hands?” She distracted him, giving his father a moment to recover.

“Oh, she used lavender to clean it, it smelled good, and I said that you have it in your garden, and she said that you are wise.”

Granny nodded along his rapid speech, examining closely the little hands. “What else?”

Roland paused to think. “It had John in it, and saint. I know cause I told her that Papa always says that John is no saint.”

"St John’s wort?” Granny offered, and Roland nodded. “Yes, that’s it!”

“Well, she certainly knows her stuff,” Granny commented appreciatively. “And I’m going to redo it all with fresh bandages,” with that she got up to prepare everything she needed.

Roland yawned widely. “I’m sleepy, Papa.”

Robin smiled weakly. “Of course you are, you had an exciting evening,” he told him. He brought him close and sat him on his lap. “Just rest, little man, it’s alright.”

“Goodnight, Papa,” Roland murmured as he drifted off.

“Goodnight, my boy,” Robin replied quietly.

Granny returned with her supplies a few moments later, smiling at the sight of his conked out son.

“And here I thought that he would be indefatigable tonight,” she commented, getting to work on redoing the dressings. “So this Regina that your son keeps raving about, I guess it is the same one who made such an impression on my granddaughter? What exactly are we dealing with?”

“A vampire,” Robin answered, somberly.

Granny arched a brow. “We don’t often get vampires in Nottingham. They usually get a whiff of us,” she indicated Red’s closed bedroom door, “and turn back the way they came. There used to be more respect for territories.”

Robin snorted. “I don’t think this one cares much for that. She is powerful and different.”

Granny nodded. “For sure, you don’t encounter vampires who save waitresses and care for little boys everyday. What was that business about her knowing Marian?” She frowned, recalling Roland’s words which had surprised her.

Robin secured an arm around Roland’s waist and rubbed his jaw with his other hand and then combed it through his hair, a nervous tick of his. “I think she was there when Marian died, maybe she even had a hand in her death,” he muttered, forcing the images of Marian’s unseeing eyes and lifeless body back in the darkest recesses of his mind.

Granny paused in her diligent task, stunned. “Are you sure of that?”

Robin’s jaw clenched. “The way she mentioned it, right as we were leaving, she knew that it would get my attention, she knew that Marian was killed by vampires, and Roland couldn’t have told her. She said that it was incentive for me to come back,” he exhaled. “She wants me to destroy her.”

Granny was stunned. “That’s unheard of. A werewolf keeps its human conscience outside of the full moon, the strongest ones can even keep it during, but vampires take over their human hosts completely, they enslave them. She shouldn’t be able to voice that thought. Could it be a trap?”

Robin pondered it, but he shook his head. “I don’t think so. She had Roland, she could have used him as bait, but she gave him back without a fight.”

Granny finished wrapping the clean cloths around Roland’s hands. “What are you going to do?”

Robin shrugged. “My job. Who am I to deny her a chance to die?” He stood up slowly, mindful of Roland. “Thank you for your help.”

Granny nodded. “Just be careful. Your boy needs you alive.”

“And I need to be sure that no one hurts him the way they did his mother.”

* * *

Robin waited until the sun was high in the sky to make his way back to the little hovel on the outskirts of town. He wasn’t able to doze off for even a minute, keeping his eyes on Roland all night, but he wasn’t tired, a nervous energy was coursing through him. Roland woke up in high spirits, and Robin entrusted him to John so that he could tell him about his adventures.

His bow was slung on his back with a full quiver, he had a cross around his neck, wooden stakes and holy water in his satchel, along with a sharp blade engraved with protective runes in an ancient sheath at his belt. He wasn’t leaving anything to chance.

He quickly reached the house and spared a look for the front garden: there wasn’t much left of the vampire’s latest meal. He opened the door wide and left it that way, bathing the single room in sunlight.

“You know,” he announced loudly, heading to one of the windows to tear off the drapes, spying a form stirring under the covers and furs on the bed. “I have thought about what you asked me to do last night, and I’m not sure that I believe you. There are so many ways to kill a vampire, I find it hard to believe that you couldn’t deal with the problem yourself, but I’m happy to remedy the situation.”

The sudden brightness illuminating the room sent the bats clinging to the ceiling in a frenzy. They started flying around the room, disoriented, screeching, and finally they gathered together, huddling up in a dark corner.

Regina had straightened up during the commotion, pushing the covers away, her dark curls tousled from sleep, her movements slow in her groggy state. Her eyes took a while to focus on him, and Robin waited patiently, leaning against a wall, arms crossed against his chest, for her to get her bearings back, smirking slightly.

When she did, she threw her legs over the side of the bed until her feet were on the ground, the sunbeams just short of reaching her toes. She stood, her long, black satiny gown brushing the floor. Her gaze firmly on his, she said “You want to know why I’m still standing here before you when I claim to despise my cursed state? I’ll show you.”

She took a step forward, one foot and then the other crossing into the light. Blisters started to appear on her skin, red, angry, and rapidly spreading, as she kept walking towards him. A light smoke steamed from her feet, but her face was impassive, even as her hands, neck and face were touched with each step she took. He straightened up, watching in horror as she was slowly burning, but she didn’t stop until she was right in front of him, a hand closing the cross hanging around his neck until it left a deep imprint on her palm. And then the process stopped, the smoke dissipated, the blisters receded until they disappeared.

“I just can’t seem to die.”


End file.
